Born of Light
by The Fire Dancer
Summary: After their daughter is almost killed, April and Casey cut ties with the Turtles to protect their young family. But years later the Turtles reach out for help – and a teenage Shadow Jones relearns what it means to be a part of the Ninja Turtle family.
1. Hiding

_A/N: Movie-verse, slightly AU. _

* * *

**Chapter 1: Hiding**

It's funny how you get used to things. When I was a kid it never occurred to me that having four giant green ninjitsu-wielding turtles as uncles was anything other than completely normal.

Come to think of it, all my favorite childhood memories have some kind of mutated creature in them. Sparring in the dojo with Uncle Raph; learning to skateboard with Uncle Mike; listening to Uncle Donnie trying to explain the inner workings of CPUs and motherboards (to a five-year-old, no less); watching Uncle Leo handcraft swords. Even meditating with Master Splinter was kind of fun. I loved those guys so much it hurt.

Until I was seven, and got my first city-life lesson.

I can't remember what happened exactly, but something was done, the Turtles put a guy in jail for it, the Foot Clan somehow got involved, things escalated. You know how it is. Then one morning I was snatched from my own neighborhood and held hostage for twenty-four hours – used as bait to draw the Turtles out.

Worst day of my life. My parents went insane trying to get me back.

The Ninja Turtles saved me in the end, just like they always did, but it was too late. Mom's trust in them had been forever shaken. She realized what she could lose in the war between the Turtles and the evil of the city, and she made a choice.

I remember hiding at the top of the stairs of our old apartment while Mom and Dad fought night after night. Mom was angry with the Turtles and wanted to leave, Dad wanted to stay in the city. I think he secretly wanted to keep playing vigilante _with_ the Turtles. Eventually Mom won, Dad admitted it was for my own good, and the next day there were boxes everywhere with Mom and Dad explaining that I had to say goodbye to my uncles and Master Splinter.

She's a woman of action, my mom - you have to give her that.

The farewell party held in our honor at the Turtle's place was painful and awkward. While everyone was distracted either in the kitchen or with Master Splinter, I stole away from the group, following Michelangelo to the living room. In a desperate moment that betrayed my age, I took Uncle Mike aside, tugged at his hand and asked if I could hide in his shell when Mom and Dad wanted to leave.

"_What?"_ he reacted, confused. "Oh. Uh, my shell doesn't work that way, little dude."

My eyes welled with tears. "But I don't want to go to Westchester! Can we hide?" Mikey and I always played hide and seek together. It was our thing.

"Shadow…"

"_Pleeeeaase_, Unca Mike?"

Uncle Mike's face softened, and for a second I could tell that this was as painful for him as it was for me. "Ah man… ok, ok. We'll hide one last time, but as soon as the sun goes down we have to go back, deal?"

We sneaked out and went top-side, climbing to the top of a radio tower with me clinging to Mike's shell and Mike gripping a stolen box of pizza. I realize now how risky that was – it was late afternoon, anybody could have seen him and attacked us. But he did it for me.

"Let's live up here!" I shouted breathlessly, bounding off his back as soon as we reached the top. "Then I'll never have to leave!"

Uncle Mike grinned but was unusually quiet, and we sat down together under the railing to feast on pepperoni. The view was breath-taking – the city skyline, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. I remember swinging my legs and chewing as Uncle Mike pointed out far-off landmarks between mouthfuls.

Once I was gorged I abandoned the pizza and started collecting stray feathers that littered the deck. "Mommy says we can't come back to visit. Don't you like us anymore?"

"Shadow!" Uncle Mike exclaimed in surprise, pulling me into a hug. "No, little dude, we _love_ you. Even more than pizza." He winked.

"So how come you don't want to be friends?"

"We _do_, Shad. It's just… you'll be totally far away… and…"

Michelangelo sighed, and bowed his head. "And you'll be safer."

I didn't understand. "I don't wanna be safer! I wanna stay with you guys."

"Honey," he began, speaking carefully as if unsure how to approach the subject. "You remember the bad men? The jerks who tried to hurt you?"

I flinched, and curled up closer to him. "Uh huh."

"Well, there are lots of people like that in this city. Bad people. Us Turtles have to stay and fight them. But your mom and dad don't want you to get hurt anymore. When you guys go away, the bad men won't get you ever again. You catch my drift?"

"Yeah," I said, struggling to understand. "So it's like hiding?"

"I guess."

"I like hiding with you better." My eyes grew teary and my bottom lip quivered. "I'll miss you Unca Mike!"

"Aw, I'm gonna miss you too," he assured me, patting my back. "But you know, it won't be so bad. You'll get a big new house, you'll start a new school, and you'll make new friends with dudes that aren't turtles. That's pretty cool, right?"

"Nuh-uh," I replied sullenly, crossing my arms. "I don't like dudes that aren't turtles."

Mike burst into wild laughter. "No matter what happens, you'll always be my favorite girl, Shadow. Gimme five." We slapped palms. "On the side. Down low – oh too _slow!"_

"Hey!" I protested.

"I'll miss you and your parents more than anything, kiddo," he repeated, this time so quietly I'm not sure if he meant for me to hear. "Look – the sun's going down."

Time to go. Sniffing, I released the feathers I clutched in my hand and watched as they blew away, slowly spinning and floating into the distant sunset. Uncle Mike followed my gaze.

"I spy," I began suddenly, "with my little eye, something beginning with… F!"

He tried to hide a grin. "Feathers?"

"… Aw."

That night Mom and Dad hauled me out of the big city for good. And then it was just the three of us. We settled in Westchester: not too far, but far enough to forget. Uncle Mike was right – we got a nice house in suburbia, I enrolled at a proper school, and I made real friends, _human_ friends.

But something was always missing.


	2. Reunion

**Chapter 2: Renunion**

"So, you're seriously a black belt?"

Jason – a tall senior with messy dark hair and a breezy grin – is walking his bike alongside me as we drift home from school. We've been flirting since the start of the year, but it's never really gone anywhere.

"Yeah," I answer with a smile, kicking a pebble absentmindedly. "Double black, actually. My dad's a martial arts instructor."

Jason chuckles. A little nervously. "I thought your dad was an auto mechanic."

"That as well. He… dabbles."

"Huh."

"My mom made me take gymnastics when I was younger," I add, trying to make myself seem less threatening. "But only 'cos I hated ballet and ice-skating so much. Guess she wanted to balance out a violent hobby with a girlie one."

"Cute, smart and _flexible,_" Jason whistles, raising an eyebrow as my cheeks grow hot. "Nice. So do I have to watch my back around you, Miss Black Belt?"

"Maybe if you keep trying lines like that."

"I don't know, you look way too delicate to be throwing punches. But it's always the ones you least suspect…"

He reaches across and grabs my hand, pretending to examine it. I jokingly flex a muscle and he laughs. It's a nice sound.

"I'm full of surprises, Jase," I reply, slowing to a halt outside our driveway. I jerk my head. "This is me."

"Cool," he says. We face each other awkwardly and I realize he's still holding my hand. "So, Trey's party. Do you wanna…?"

A horrified look suddenly cross Jason's face, and he steps backwards as a shadow falls across us. "Shadow, watch out!"

Heart racing, I spin around to see a monstrously tall figure looming over us both, head covered with a welding helmet. _"What's going on here?"_ a deep, gruff voice demands, a crowbar clenched in his fist.

Oh for the love of… "Da-_ad!_" I groan as Jason turns white.

Laughing, Dad removes the helmet, twirling a crowbar in one hand. "Hey honey. Who's your friend?"

Eyes wide, Jason manages to introduce himself in a dangerously shaky voice. "Uh… hi, I'm Jason. Sir. Um, I mean, Mr. Jones, that is. Real nice to meet you…"

Amusement flickers in Dad's eyes. "Casey Jones," he says in a confident baritone, offering Jason a hand to shake. The one with the crowbar in it.

"Dad," I moan, covering my eyes in embarrassment.

"Oh right," Dad laughs, spinning the crowbar expertly and tossing it to the other hand. "You know, I carry this thing around _so much_ I forget I'm holding it sometimes."

"Dad, please just stop," I demand in an undertone through gritted teeth. I'm dying. I'm going to die of humiliation right here.

"Ok, well…" Jason trails off, trying to pry himself away from Dad's suspiciously firm grip. I see him glance at the crowbar. "It was… _great_ to meet you, Mr. Jones. I'll see you in English, Shad. I better get home."

"Bye, Jase," I say, trying desperately to signal behind my father's back that this is not normal. Dad glances at me over his shoulder and I quickly pull my hands behind my back and flash him what I hope is a dazzling smile.

As Jason jumps on his bicycle and high-tails it my dazzling smile morphs into a venomous glare of defiance, and I plant my hands on my hips accusingly. "Are you going to do that to all my boyfriends?"

Dad roars with laughter, then quickly catches himself. "Wait, boy-_what?_ Since when?"

I shrug, adjusting my bag. "Oh, since never. I don't know if I like him that much."

"Makes two of us," Dad mutters dryly, turning back to the car.

"Where d'ya get that crowbar from, anyway?"

He looks up at me with a lopsided grin, tapping his head lightly with aforementioned weapon. "Oh, it's just something I have lying around in case you get a boyfriend."

With _my_ dad, you know it's true. I watch as he swaggers around our beaten-up SUV, ripping off some dark reflective material that had been taped to the side windows. Come to think of it, he left unusually early this morning – Mom said he had some business in the city.

My voice rises with suspicion. "Why'd you block the windows?" He can't have been planning to transport Jason's body already, could he? Even for my dad, that's a tad on the extreme side.

Dad rubs the back of his neck, glancing at me over his shoulder. "Uh… well. Before you go inside, I should tell you…"

I instinctively glance towards the front window. That's when I catch a glimpse of green silhouettes, a flash of an orange bandanna. Suddenly, I'm sprinting. No way. _No way._

I burst inside the front door like a human cannonball, ignoring my mom's reprimands, and launch myself onto the first figure I see.

"_Uncle Mike!"_ I scream, nearly spear-tackling him straight to the ground.

Michelangelo staggers from the surprise attack, but quickly grips my waist and hoists me clear off the ground, holding me above his head like he used when I was five.

"Whoa! It's _Shad_ to the _D-O!_" Uncle Mike proclaims in that carefree voice I remember so well, spinning me around. "You're getting way too big for this, little dude!" He's just making conversation, really – he's easily strong enough to support _ten_ of me.

Crying with laughter, and I wrap my arms around his leathery neck and squeeze so hard he gives a surprised splutter. I've never been so glad to see a green grin in my life, and I cling to him fiercely.

Raphael is settled in Dad's comfy armchair, green arms slung over the sides, his keen eyes appraising me from beneath that red bandanna. Leaning against the same armchair is Donatello, holding what looks like a worn manila folder in one hand, a cup of herbal tea in the other. Leonardo is the only one I can tell is armed – his swords sit intercrossed along his shell, brows raised good-naturedly as he recognizes me.

Mom's sort of hovering in the background, arms folded and an awkward smile pasted on her face. She looks scared Michelangelo might drop me.

"The Turtles have dropped by for a surprise visit, Shadow," she feels the need to explain. I sense tension in her voice, and suddenly I get the distinct impression she and the Turtles have been arguing. "Why don't you give Uncle Mikey some breathing space and say hello to everyone?"

Mike takes the hint and obediently sets me down, ruffling my hair as I beam back at him. It's so good to see him that I can't even speak.

A round of hugs, back slaps and 'Holy Hell, you've _grown up!_' ensue as I turn from turtle to turtle, unable to contain my delight.

"It's so good to see you!" I exclaim, as Leo gives me a quick peck on the cheek and Donnie squeezes me against his plastron in a hug reminiscent of a juggling act. Even Raph – stern, gruff Raphael – slings an arm around me and thumps my back in one of those clumsy guy-hugs.

"What- what's going on? I mean, just… wow!" I exclaim. My mind churns with emotions – primarily unspeakable happiness and excitement, but there is also confusion and I have to admit, a little anger. I've barely heard from my uncles since I was seven. Maybe it comes from being adopted, but I tend to take abandonment very personally.

The Turtles exchange glances underneath their colored bandannas, but it is Leo who speaks. "Well, we ran into your Dad in the city. He invited us back here, catch up on old times…"

Doubt clouds my face, and I knit my brows in confusion. Considering it's been a decade since we were last in contact with the Turtles – save the occasional postcard or photo – this just doesn't wash right.

"… Is something wrong?"

"No, no, Shadow," Uncle Mike interjects, giving me a playful grin and beckoning me into the next room. "Hey come 'ere, I brought you something."

The coffee table in the adjacent room is littered with empty plates, cans and teacups. As we sink into the sofa it occurs to me that he might be distracting me while my parents talk with the others, but I'm too happy to see him to care.

He hands me a clumsily wrapped present, and stares at me as I squeal in joy and begin tearing at the paper.

"Man, you're so _big _now," Mike remarks, shaking his head. A faint sadness tinges his features before being quickly covered up with a grin. "Has it really been that long?"

"Yeah," I reply, trying not to let the hurt and emptiness of the past ten years well up inside. "But hey, you're here now, right?"

Inside is a box, and I carefully open it to reveal a black leather necklace with a feathered pendant. I give a breathy, "Oooh!" like you do when you receive anything, then I realize the significance.

"I spy, with my little eye…" Uncle Mike teases me, a gleam in his eye.

I cackle so hard I knock a saucer off the coffee table. For the moment, all thoughts of abandonment are forgiven as Mike gives me another bear hug. Turtle hug?

* * *

"April."

April smiles softly, and glances over her shoulder beneath waves of auburn hair.

"I've missed these chats of ours, Leo."

Leonardo takes a tea-cloth from the wall, a silent offer to help her dry the dishes, but April just leans on the kitchen sink and stares out the window as the chattering in the living room fades into the background.

"I respect and admire what the Turtles do," April begins. "You know that. You're all heroes. You save lives, you fight for those who can't fight for themselves. But over the years you've made more and more enemies because of it. Being connected to you is _dangerous_. When I was young I never used to care. But now we've got Shadow."

"We would never-" Leo turns to face her, "_I_ would never let anything happen to Shadow. You know that."

"But it's not something you can always control, is it?" she challenges.

"There's nothing we can always control," Leo points out. "Shadow's turning eighteen next year, right? June 22nd, I remember. She's not a kid anymore."

"Look, she might grow out of dolls and make-believe, but she'll never stop being my daughter," April cuts in, sighing. "In all the years I've known you guys, after all the crazy stuff that happened, the mutated creatures, rival ninja gangs, epic intergalactic battles, _everything_ – you want to know the only time I've ever been truly scared out of my mind?"

Silent, Leo bows his head, knowing the answer perfectly well.

"When they took _her_," she answers, trying for Leo's sake to conceal her anger. "And even now, just the thought… I can't lose my girl, not like that."

"I can't imagine what you went through," Leo says diplomatically. "It was a tough time. But I can't apologize forever, April."

"Oh, I don't want you to," she says in exasperation, "I never wanted that. I should've thanked you for saving Shadow's life but I was scared and angry. Angry people aren't exactly rational. I was wrong, and for that_ I'm_ sorry."

"You did what was best for your family. I respect that."

"Then you'll understand when I say that now, our daughter still comes first."

"I do understand," he assures her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "But the Turtles? We're your family too, April. And we need you. I know, even after all these years, I shouldn't be asking you and Casey for anything, but there's nobody else."

April is silent, remembering a time when she would have given anything to help the Turtles. Over the years they've taught her more about love and friendship than she ever expected to learn. She owes them her life – she owes them her _daughter's_ life. Even Casey is in debt to them.

"April, I would never have burst into your life like this if it weren't an emergency. People are disappearing. Lives could be at stake. And we have nothing to work with except this clue Donnie dug up, which points to your old shipping company."

"Casey and I haven't worked there for years," April returns. "Almost a decade, in fact."

"Still, we need you and Casey's contacts. We need someone who won't attract suspicion digging into the history of this company. We need someone can do recon in broad daylight, but can handle themselves if something _does_ go wrong. We need you and Casey because we know we can _trust_ you. Just spend some time in the city to help us figure this mess out, that's all I'm asking."

Encouraged by her contemplative silence, Leo continues. "Shadow can stay with Master Splinter. There's no safer place in the world, nothing will happen to her while she's with him. And the four of us can take shifts guarding her."

A soft grin flickers across Aprils' face, recalling Shadow's double black belts, her bow and arrow, and the vigorous training her father has put her through since she was seven.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," she says. "Just give me the night to think it over."

"Of course."

April embraces Leo, and they remember a time years ago, when they were young and spirited, before the deaths and disappearances and craziness took too much of a toll.

"It really is good to see you, Leo. All of you."

* * *

Dad is driving the Turtles back to New York under the cover of night.

And Mom has decided that we're following in her car.

"Sweetie, it's Master Splinter," Mom explains, eyes darting to me erratically, as if trying to gauge whether I suspect anything is amiss. Which I do. "He's, uh, he's not well. It might be good to spend some time with the Turtles, reconnect with what we had as a family."

"Mom," I say, placing an elbow on the passenger window and giving her a fierce stare. "I appreciate the family line, but tell me what the hell is going on right now."

She tucks a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear and manages to shoot me a withering look. "Ugh, you talk like your father. We're just visiting Master Splinter and having a weekend in the city."

"We never have weekends in the city. That's something normal families do."

"Well this should be a fun new experience, right?"

"If Master Splinter was really that ill," I say firmly, "the Turtles wouldn't have left his side, and they sure as hell wouldn't have left him by himself for hours to go cruising with Dad. He's _old._ They would have just called us."

Mom is silent, but I can see her mind clicking with various ways to scoot around my argument.

"Come on, ten years and they appear out of the blue and we're following them back to the city and you tell me there's nothing wrong?" I ask incredulously.

"It is a little out of the blue," she agrees. "But your father and I talked, and we think it has been long enough. Maybe we should start afresh with the Turtles, try to move on from the past. They are family and we've been estranged for a _long _time_._"

But it is the past itself - the very thing Mom says we have to move away from - that is whipping up a cyclone of fear in my mind.

"It's the Foot, isn't it?" I ask quietly. "They found out where we live now, didn't they? They're coming back so we have to go into hiding."

Mom is so taken aback that she almost swerves into the next lane. "Sweetie! Oh Shadow, no, that's not it. That's not it at _all_. Is that what you're scared of? The Foot?"

I stare sullenly out the window at the distant city lights and the patchwork of night clouds. If you've ever been unlucky enough to experience a serious trauma, you'll know that sometimes even years after the wound has healed and the pain has faded, you still carry the scar inside. Sure, you move on, you learn to live with it. But sometimes seeing that scar is all it takes for the nightmare to come flooding back again.

I feel my mom's hand take mine. "They can never hurt you again. Do you believe me?"

Her soft green eyes are earnest and determined. For a moment I _do_ believe her. So I nod and she smiles, giving my hand a pat.

"If it's not the Foot," I ask slowly. "Why are we going back? I mean, I'd love to visit the Turtles, but why now?"

"Look," she sighs, leaning back in the driver's seat and absentmindedly placing a hand on the back of the headrest. "Maybe we'll explain when we get there. Why don't you try and get some sleep?"

I won't be getting any more answers tonight. Admitting defeat, I curl up in my seat, when something else occurs to me. "Will we be staying in the sewer lair?"

"No," she grins. "We got something else worked out."

* * *

Many thanks to all my reviewers!


	3. Memories

**Chapter 3: Memories  
**

It's easy enough to see that I'm adopted. While my dad's a staggering six foot two, and my mom's no midget, I'm tiny for my age, with dark features that don't resemble either of them. A shame I couldn't benefit from the looks department, since my mom could pass for a supermodel and my dad still gets teenage girls crushing on him.

Ew.

Mostly it's not so bad, except for little things. Like not knowing exactly _what_ ethnic background you are when people ask, not knowing what your family medical history is, not knowing whose eyes you inherited, or where you get that particular quirk from.

At times like that I wonder about my birth mother. Gabrielle. Apparently I look exactly like her – she was small and pretty, with dark hair and big eyes like mine. I've never seen a picture but Dad used to tell me about her when I was younger, he wanted me to know her. I was scared it would hurt Mom's feelings to talk about Dad's ex-wife so much that eventually I stopped. As far as I'm concerned my mom is April O'Neil-Jones.

But I still wonder, sometimes.

I'm still wondering as my mom's car slows to a crawl, gravel crunching under the tires as we follow Dad and the turtles down the dark, narrow roads of New York City.

"My old apartment building," Mom explains to me as we haul our bags out of the car. "We're staying right up top."

Dad, Mom and I troop inside the front entrance silently and make our way to the elevator – the Turtles opt to use the fire escape and meet us on the roof. Saves face when running into neighbors and all that.

"I got this place for the rooftop access," Mom says as I watch the fluorescent numbers on the dial mark our ascent. "When we moved to Westchester I gave it to the Turtles. They mostly use it as a topside safe-house. You know, if they're injured on patrol or can't make it back underground or something."

"Now they're sharing with us," Dad adds, shifting the weight of a duffle bag from shoulder to shoulder as the elevator doors open with a chime.

"Welcome to your humble abode," Mike announces with a flourish as well all troop inside. "Raph and Leo have gone out on a quick patrol. Once you guys are settled we can swing by for supper with Master Splinter if you want."

"That'd be great," Mom replies, plunking a bag down and narrowing her eyes at her surroundings.

"Uh, sorry we didn't clean it up a little," Donatello says sheepishly as Mom gives him one of those pointed raised-eyebrow looks I know so well. "We didn't think you'd be here so soon."

The place is pretty bare – a few mismatched couches and armchairs are scattered in front of a chipped table and ancient-looking TV. First aid kits are everywhere. Dusty curtains are pulled tightly across the windows. Empty cans of soda are piled next to the bin. The kitchen is stocked with long-life juice, tinned soup and two-minute noodles, boxes of tea sit quietly beside the old kettle.

Mom starts quickly and efficiently tidying and rearranging the place, Dad disappears down the hall, checking the light switches and yelling at me to bring my bag in.

But what really catches my interest is a collection of old photographs in dusty frames lining the wall of the living room.

There's one of my mom in her twenties when she used to work for Channel Six, and another of her holding a katana and wearing modified Samurai armor.

"Mom!" I exclaim, pressing my hands against the first photograph. "I can't believe you used to wear this yellow thing!"

Mom groans. "Oh no, you guys kept that photo?"

"Old times sake, Ape!" Mike laughs, taking a bag off her hands and giving me a wink. "It's good to show Shad some vintage fashion trends."

"Oh yeah," my dad says, poking his head back in the room as he shoots Mom a teasing look. "She looked like she was shifting toxic waste or something."

"Hey, she pulled it off," Donnie laughs, leaning over my shoulder to examine the photograph. "Got _your_ attention at any rate, Casey."

"Ew!" I mutter, moving on to the next photograph. "Hey, I've seen _this_ one in your closet."

Mom gives me a sideways look. "What were you doing in my closet?"

"The Samurai armor," Donnie says. "She kept the yellow color scheme and updated the functionality. Man, remember that time-"

"The Max Winter thing?" Uncle Mike completes, clapping a hand on Donnie's shell with a laugh. "Those stone generals, the monsters running around the city? That was one crazy weekend!"

"Wait, you still have that armor getup in the closet?" Dad asks incredulously. He waggles his eyebrows at Mom suggestively. "Why don't pull it out now and then?"

"Ew!" I squeal, as Donnie joking covers my ears with his green hands.

"Ok, you crazy people," my mom finally says. "If you're done going through my fashion history, I think we've got a supper to be at."

* * *

Master Splinter used to scare the hell out of me. I mean, giant rats are quite confronting of their own accord, but when you're four-years-old and they tower over you in that stern Sensei way, it's terrifying on a whole different level. I remember hiding behind my mom's legs every time we visited, as she'd try in vain to get me to greet _Ojiisan._

Now he just seems _old_.

Master Splinter greets my mom first – beady eyes lighting up with recognition and outstretching a worn palm with long claws towards her. "April – daughter."

Mom's green eyes soften, and she does something that completely surprises me – she performs a formal Japanese bow of greeting, back straight, hands by her sides. My mom bows to _no-one_. For her – passionate and fiery, bold and fearless – this is a gesture of deepest respect. Master Splinter shuffles towards her and she straightens up, seizing his hands.

As they embrace Master Splinter glances at my father. "Casey," he says warmly, with a knowing glint in his eye that surprises me. "It is good to see you. It's been some time."

My dad bows his head in a bob of greeting, and hangs back awkwardly beside me. He's never been completely comfortable with all that traditional, formal stuff.

"And Shadow," Master Splinter says, and I'm suddenly taken aback by the brightness in his eyes, the sharp intellect and fierce passion within the withered body. "You are blooming into a beautiful young woman, dear child. Shadow," he says again, shuffling towards me as I instinctively bow my head. "A truly lovely name."

Dad chose my name. He says he named me Shadow because I taught him to feel happiness during a dark time of his life – because even in the shadows you can find hidden blessings. Mom says he probably just thought it was cool.

All I know is that the other kids gave me hell for it in seventh grade until the day I broke Chris Thompson's nose.

"_Ojiisan_, shadows aren't lovely," I argue before I can stop myself. I've done a lot of thinking about this. "They're dark reflections of what's real. A shadow is like a ghost."

"A shadow is born of light," Master Splinter replies enigmatically, placing a gentle paw on my head and smiling fondly. "And what a light-filled life you have ahead of you, Shadow."

I wonder how he could possibly predict this – last I remembered animal mutations and ninja skills didn't give one precognitive powers. But what would I know? Master Splinter is such an undeniably wise figure that I find myself believing him anyway.

"Leo and Raphael will be home soon," Master Splinter adds, gesturing towards a neatly set dining table. "Please, sit down."

Mom and Dad accept their seats but I find myself wandering off, drawn into their home, drawn into world I left behind, trying to catch the distant memories.

Beyond the couches, the muted TV, the cluttered workspaces and the silent bedrooms, I open a door that I remember leads to the armory. The room is huge and has a sense of wonder, glittering with steel and mahogany. As I gaze at the Turtles' enormous, beautiful weapons collection, a memory springs to mind, unbidden.

* * *

"_Unca Leo?"_

_Leo looks strange in the dark room, shrouded in shadows. As he looks up from the work bench sparks fly, illuminating his face in flecks. _

"_Hi Shadow. I thought you were watching cartoons with Mikey."_

"_Whatcha doin'?" I ask, eyes lighting up impishly upon spying a collection of throwing knives._

"_Just sharpening some… hey, hey, don't touch anything! There's a lot of sharp pointy stuff in here and your mom will have me strung and quartered…" He quickly places the sword he was working on above a five-year-old's reach and stands up._

_My inquisitive hands hover eagerly around all the mounted weapons, and I start pointing to random items that snag my interest._

"_What's that one?"_

"_That's called a sai. Uncle Raffi likes those."_

"_What's that one?"_

"_A spear. Aztec, I think."_

"_And that one?"_

"_Escrima sticks."_

"_And that one?"_

"_Katana."_

"_And that one?"_

"_A scythe."_

"_And that one?"_

"_That's the OTHER sai."_

"_And that one?"_

"_Fukiya – a blowgun."_

"_And that one?"_

"_A bo staff."_

"_And that one?"_

"_A battleaxe."_

"_And that one?" My voice rises in excitement. "I like that one!"_

_Leo approaches, examining my newly-proclaimed favorite. "Hey, good choice," he whistles, giving me an approving grin and carefully removing the item from its holder so that I might see. I have to stand on tiptoe to admire it._

"_This is a bow. You draw the string, like this, and hold an arrow here, steady." He aims the empty bow at an imaginary enemy. "The tension will release your arrow. It takes a lot of skill to master one of these. But when you do, it's one of the most graceful, beautiful forms of armed combat. It's like art." Leo exhales wistfully, turning the bow over and over in his green hands._

"_Robin Hood uses a bow and arrow," I volunteer, recalling the anthropomorphic fox from the Disney cartoon. _

"_That's right! Very good, Shadow. And bow and arrows were the weapon of choice for kunoichi back in the day." _

"_What's itchy?"_

"_Kunoichi – that means a girl ninja," he explained. _

"_I'll be a girl ninja one day!" I declared. "Can I play bow and arrow? I'll train!"_

"_Shad… this bow is bigger than YOU."_

Smiling to myself, I quietly trace a fingertip along the handle of the longbow I'd admired so many years ago. Ornate carvings line the dark, lacquered wood, embellished with crimson Kanji characters, gold bands and a gold grip. The colors are still sleek and vibrant, despite the bow being a ceremonial antique. I can see now why I adored that thing. It's amazing, a work of art – nothing like the practical, plain bows my dad buys for me. An aesthetic vision sitting amongst the sharper, more feared weapons.

"Well, I suppose you're big enough to play with it now," a voice comments from behind me.

I turn to see Uncle Leo, who is watching me with the same soft nostalgia in his eyes that I'm feeling.

"I can't believe this is all still here," I say, spreading my arms. "I feel like I've come home."

"To a weapons collection?" Leo smiles and raises a brow, lifting one of the ornamental swords from the wall. "Not a lot has changed here, I think you'll find."

"Maybe that's a good thing, Uncle Leo."

"Not always." He sweeps the sword toward me in an arc, moving with such speed and elegance that I barely hold on to the good sense to keep still. Then just as quickly, he brings the sword level to his eyes with a _snap_, inches away from his nostrils, and peers at me from over the blade. His blue bandanna reflects in the sliver of steel that conceals the lower half of his face.

"You carry yourself well," he observes, eyes slowly taking a full survey of my body. Self-conscious, I try to improve my posture a little. "Who have you been training with?"

It takes a moment for me to register that he's talking about martial arts. "My dad, mostly. He's into MMA now. I've enrolled at a few different schools as well: karate, judo, aikido, Muay Thai, Wing Chun…"

Leo nods approvingly. "You look like you have good upper body strength and balance."

"Really? You know, that's probably the archery."

Replacing the sword on its display, Leo beams at me, realization dawning on him. "So you _did_ take that up. Maybe I had some influence on you after all."

"You have no idea, Uncle Leo. I spent the entire third grade drawing pictures of weapons and Ninja Turtles. My teacher wouldn't stop asking my mom about it."

He laughs heartily, slapping a hand on my shoulder and leading me back to the den. "Time to eat, _kunoichi._"

* * *

_Many thanks to all my reviewers! Sorry for the delay._

_Oh and __**Pretender Fanatic,**__ let's be accurate: I said 'instructor', not 'master'… ;-)_


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